


Partitioning Never Felt So Good

by Firegirl56



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Crossdressing, M/M, Romance, human au i guess??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firegirl56/pseuds/Firegirl56
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan was always perfectly happy living with his two sisters and their occasional guest.  But when Alfred interferes and claims to have Ivan's best interests at heart, he meets Feliks, a young man who has a flair for dresses and skirts.  He quickly grows close with Ivan, and they find themselves caught in a whirlwind of passion and excitement, as lovers often do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long since I've written a fanfic. Anyway, I'm crashing back onto the scene with a fic about gay personified countries. There's really no better way to make a comeback, am I right?  
> Russia/Poland is probably my number one Hetalia ship, so it really sucks that there's so little of it. I'm doing what I can to amend that lack by writing this. I hope the small group of other shippers enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy reading your stuff!  
> Also, just a note, I've used a sprinkling of Russian and Polish words and phrases in here for authenticity. (Most of it is just Feliks swearing.) I'll have English translations in the notes at the bottom of the page if, like me, you didn't know what they meant off the top of your head. Many thanks to my lovely (and fluent!) girlfriend for checking my Polish grammar, and to all the Russian-learning sites I checked for accuracy.  
> Feedback not only welcome, but encouraged!  
> 

"I do not understand in the slightest why you think this will work," Ivan grumbled, looking doubtfully at Alfred, large nose peeking out from under his fleece pink scarf.  The Russian was sitting in the old armchair of his living room, and as he sank into the cushion of the antique, for once he was below the eye level of his sometimes-friend, sometimes-rival. 

               "Dude, stop being so negative.  I am so totally great at setting people up.  There is no way this could POSSIBLY go wrong." Alfred confidently ran a hand through his hair, shooting Ivan a winning smile as the cowlick strand popped back up into place, refusing to be smoothed down.

               He and Alfred got along well enough, though sometimes Ivan felt Alfred didn’t respect him or his opinions much.  Both still harbored some vague resentment from a fight in high school.  It surfaced occasionally, but neither liked to talk about it.  Currently, Ivan couldn't decide which way he preferred Alfred: testy and competitive or well-meaning but meddlesome, as he was now.

               "But you do not know who I like!  You do not know who likes me!" Ivan's face came out from under his scarf as he spoke, and his knuckles turned white as he clutched the arms of his chair.  He had a long list of better reasons to tell Alfred to butt out _, мудак_ , but he really didn't want to anger one of the few people who acted like a friend to him, even if it was only some of the time.

               "Bro, chill.  I know you better than you think.  And plus, I have someone on the other end who’s been helping me find you the perfect girl."

               " _Что_?!  Who's helping you?"

               "Gilbert."

               Ivan put a hand on his chin, thinking for a second about the arrogant air and twisting grin of the man Alfred had chose as his accomplice. 

               "I...I am not sure if I can trust that one." Ivan knew it was silly to worry, but he couldn’t help but feel a sickening uneasiness in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Gilbert’s cruel red eyes, the ones that had creased with cold laughter as he bullied a young, helpless Ivan in their childhood.

               Alfred grabbed Ivan's forearm and yanked him out of his chair.  Annoyances aside, Ivan was impressed by how strong Alfred was for someone of his size. 

               "Come on, dude, Gilbert is totally chill.  Yeah, he's started some shit, but he and I are really tight bros now.  You can trust him."

               Ivan shrugged.  Alfred sighed.

               "Look man, I know you're not dying to go on a blind date and all, but I’m trying to help you out here.  We all see how lonely you are.  Not everyone is cut out to be covered in chicks like I am, but even you deserve a lady friend to spice up your life.  Y'know what I’m saying, bro?  Bring some heat into that Siberian tundra!" Alfred winked and elbowed the taller man playfully.

               Ivan stared at him like he had just suggested eating twenty raw eggs. "Siberia is cold for a reason.  If it was warm and fertile, it would hardly be a suitable prison for the criminals we keep there.”

               Alfred stared back at him, unamused. “I’m not asking you to marry her.  Just a date, man.  That’s all it is.”

               "Fine!” Ivan cried out in exasperation, tired of arguing. “I will go on this stupid date with some girl I do not know!  Fine!  But this will all go wrong, and I will blame you!"

               Alfred punched the air with his fist, unafraid of the Russian’s vague and weak threat, and slammed his hand on Ivan’s back, knocking a cough out of the unsuspecting man. “All right, bro!  That’s what I’m talking about!  I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

               “Just make sure I have plenty of vodka,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his fists.  Alfred was already halfway out, and Ivan grabbed his wallet, cell phone, and keys before leaving the front door, locking it behind him.  He sighed.  Natalya would freak out if she found out he had gone out on a date, and he didn’t want to have to barricade himself in his bedroom for days like he had the last time she suspected he was showing interest in someone.

               “Yo, dude, can you hurry it up? I thought you were supposed to be rushin’?” Alfred called, already hanging out the passenger seat window of Ivan’s car.

               “Very funny,” the Russian called back as he crossed the driveway and got into the car.  He put the key in the ignition, but turned to the other man before turning the key. “So, I have agreed to go through with your crazy plan to get me a ‘lady friend,’ as you call it.  In exchange, you must at least tell me about her so that I will have something to talk to her about.  I do not want to look like an idiot.”

               “Sure thing, bro, but I can’t tell you too much.” Alfred replied, “That’d ruin the surprise of it.” He pushed up his glasses on his nose as Ivan pulled the car out onto the street and began the drive to the restaurant where he was to meet this infamous mystery girl.

              The parking lot was dark when they arrived, fresh with the absence of sunshine that comes just after sunset.  Light streamed from the windows of the restaurant, and through the panels of glass Ivan could see people talking and laughing in the yellow lighting.  He locked the car and fidgeted with his scarf as he and Alfred made their way to the front door.  As Alfred pulled it open, the two were hit with the sounds of clinking glasses, upbeat music, and loud conversations.  The restaurant was crowded, even for a Saturday night, and Ivan was grateful that Alfred had taken care of the reservations to avoid too much of a wait.  Standing in the vestibule while they waited to be seated, Ivan saw Gilbert rise from his seat at a large table and make his way toward them.

               “Hey, bro, wassup?” Alfred said, fist-bumping Gilbert as he joined them.  The Prussian turned to Ivan and nodded curtly.  Ivan smiled back, but Gilbert just curled his lip unpleasantly before turning back to Alfred.

               “Not, much, bro, just being awesome, as usual.  You should come and sit at our table.  Kiku’s there, and so are Francis and Antonio.  Let’s leave Ivan to his date, right?”

               “Uh, I really don’t think--”                                                             

               “All right!  Sounds like a plan!” Alfred said, whacking Ivan on the back again. “Don’t worry, dude, we’ll be, like, two tables away if anything goes wrong.” His face was split by a giant grin that matched Gilbert’s, and Ivan couldn’t help but wonder what the joke was all about.

               “Your table just opened up, sir,” said a waitress to Alfred, who nodded at Ivan.

               “She must already be sitting, then,” Gilbert added, and the three began to make their way towards the back of the restaurant. 

               Alfred sat down next to Kiku and immediately began speaking loudly and avidly to him, about what Ivan had no idea.  Gilbert pointed to a girl sitting in a table nearby and wished him luck with a wink before sitting back down and taking a swig from his beer.

               Ivan swallowed, beginning to feel nervous despite knowing that there was nothing to fear.  He had told Alfred that he didn’t mind not having a girlfriend, but like most people, he wanted to be liked.  What if she rejected him?  What if they didn’t have anything in common?  Everything Alfred had told him about her had evaporated from his mind. 

               As he made his way to the table, trying to keep a calm exterior, he could not see her face, which was hidden in her menu.  Her hands were small and smooth-looking, with nails painted a deep shade of green.  Ivan took a seat across the small table from her without her noticing or lifting her face from her menu.  He was aware of Alfred and Gilbert’s eyes boring into him.  He cleared his throat in an attempt to get her attention, but to no avail.  Ivan heard Gilbert’s snicker above all the sounds of the restaurant, and he gritted his teeth before clearing his throat again, louder this time.

               “Oh!” The girl behind the menu cried, jumping a little. “ _Przepraszam_ , I didn’t see you there.”

               That voice.  That accent.  That foreign word.  They all sounded familar, but they couldn’t be what Ivan was thinking, unless there had been some sort of misunderstanding.  Alfred and Gilbert had brought him here to meet a date, not…

               The girl dropped the menu from her face, revealing that she wasn’t a girl at all.

               “… _Feliks_!?”

               Alfred and Gilbert erupted into a cacophonous laughter, and Ivan frantically looked from them to Feliks, who sat across from him, completely calm but somewhat bewildered, wearing heels, a flowered dress, makeup, and a ribbon in his hair.

               “Th-wh-what’s going on?  Are you at the wrong table?” Ivan asked.

               “Of course not!” Feliks replied indignantly. “What kind of idiot do you think I am?  You think because I like to dress like a girl, _mam srałe zamiast mózgu?_ ”

               “ _Н-Hет_!  That was not what I meant!  I did not think that at all!” Ivan stuttered, waving his hands in a useless attempt to pacify the angry Pole. “It’s just that I was brought here thinking I would be going on a--”

               “How’s the date, Ivan?” Gilbert cried, suddenly standing behind him, Alfred by his side.  The latter was laughing so hard he was almost crying.

               “I can’t believe you fell for it, man!  I knew you were desperate, but I had no idea you were gullible too!” Alfred broke into another fit of laughter, accompanied by Gilbert.  Ivan felt heat spread across his face, and he clenched his fists, torn between wanting to punch the both of them and not wanting to make a scene in the middle of the restaurant.  Before he could make up his mind either way, he heard the sound of a chair being pushed out very quickly, and he turned his head up to see Feliks standing there in all of his drag-wearing, not-quite-five feet tall glory.  The small man glared at the two troublemakers with a look that could boil water and began to yell.

               “You think this is funny, do you?  _Wy kurde myślicie że to śmieszne, dupki?_   This isn’t funny, and neither are you, but _ja Wam powiem Wy jesteście!_ ” Ivan didn’t understand most of what Feliks was saying, but he could pick up enough to know that it was nothing good.  The blond raised one accusatory, manicured finger to Gilbert before continuing his tirade. “ _Masz w głowie gówna krowie, i nie strugaj pawiana bo ci jebne w ryja!_ ”

               Most people in the restaurant were staring, and though most had no idea what the words tumbling from Feliks’s mouth were, one mother sitting with her young son had her hands clapped over his ears and a horrified look on her face.  Even the waitresses had stopped serving and were watching the showdown. 

               As soon as Feliks deemed the Prussian put in his place, he moved on to Alfred. “ _Świnia, przestań pluć na mnie swoją spermą!  Jesteś tania kurwa, i jak patrze na Ciebie to jestem za aborcja!_ ”

               When the Pole was finished, the entire room was silent.  The manager of the establishment came to their table and told the four men that he would not stand for such misconduct in his restaurant, and that they would have to leave.  Ivan sighed.  He hadn’t even gotten a chance to order a drink, let alone a meal for his now growling stomach.  Ivan followed his loud, boisterous “friends” and the foul-mouthed drag queen out of the restaurant silently, not daring to look up at anyone in the room for the shame. 

               When they reached the parking lot, Alfred turned around and stared at Feliks for a few seconds before swinging a punch that collided with a crunch, knocking the shorter man off his high-heeled feet and onto the pavement.  “Learn to take a joke, shithead,” Alfred spat. “You didn’t have to get us all kicked out!”

               Feliks grimaced.  He pushed himself up off the pavement with one hand and flipped Alfred off with the other.  The American took it as a challenge and lunged toward him, but was stopped by Ivan’s strong grip on his shoulder, holding him back.

               “Alfred, please don’t hurt him anymore!  You brought this on yourself with your stupid prank.” He pleaded, taking pity on the man lying bruised on the pavement. “It is not funny anymore, not to me, not to him, not to anyone.  _Пож алуйста_, just let it go.”

               Alfred relaxed after a minute, shrugging his hand off and walking around Feliks to stand with Gilbert.

               “Whatever.  Let’s go, dude.” He followed Gilbert back to a big SUV and climbed in the passenger seat.  The pair wasted no time in speeding out of the lot, leaving Ivan and Feliks alone in near darkness.  Silence engulfed them for a long minute.

               “I’m so, so sorry you got pulled into this mess--”

               “Sorry I got you kicked out of the restaurant--”

               They both stopped mid-apology, aware that the other was speaking.  Ivan let out a nervous laugh that Feliks did not return.  Instead, the smaller man sat up completely, wiping the trickle of blood from his nose onto his sleeve.  He felt his face and the soreness of his cheek that had not yet faded.

               “We should get you some ice for that,” Ivan said before he could stop himself.  Feliks turned and stared at him for a second.

              “So you really were just a victim of their prank?” He asked.  Ivan nodded. “Heh.  Well, thanks for not, like, letting them punch me.  Real sweet of you.”  The green eyes that stared into Ivan’s violet ones narrowed. “So what is it that you want from me?”

               “N-nothing,” Ivan replied, feeling that this was not the answer Feliks was expecting or looking for. “I just worried you would be hurt.  Can I take you to a hospital?”

               Feliks laughed. “It’s not that bad.  It was just, like, one punch.  I’ll be fine.  Do you have a first aid kit in your car?” Ivan nodded. “Perfect.  Lead me to it.” He reached up his arms and Ivan pulled him to his feet, bringing their bodies momentarily close before Feliks regained his footing and stepped back, straightening out his clothes, which had become understandably disheveled during the fight.  Ivan found his eyes lingering for a second too long, and turned away. 

               He walked down the row of cars until he reached his, and he unlocked it, digging in the glove compartment for the first aid kit.  Feliks opened a car door and climbed in to sit down in the backseat, immediately applying the hot and cold pack to his face.  He washed the elbow that had scraped the pavement with rubbing alchohol and slapped a bandage on it.  Ivan watched the speed and familiarity with which he patched himself up, and made the undeniable assumption that Feliks had had a lot of practice with this.

               “Does this, uh, happen to you frequently?” Ivan asked, though he already knew the answer.

               “Yeah, pretty much,” Feliks replied as if it was nothing. “At least this time I did something to make them mad first.  Usually it’s just, like, ‘God, how could you wear girl’s clothes if you aren’t a girl?’ and then punches or kicks or whatever.” He finished dealing with his scrapes and bruises and began packing the first aid supplies back into their bag.

               “Doesn’t it bother you?”

               “It used to.  I stopped letting it bother me.  I find it a lot more annoying that assholes like Alfred and Gilbert think they can get away with trying to ‘prank’ someone by messing with their emotions like they just did.  That wasn’t even a prank.  That was just mean-fucking-spirited, plain and simple.”

               Silence fell over them again, and for some reason Ivan couldn’t explain, he suddenly became very much aware of what could happen next, alone with someone else in the backseat of his car…except no, that wasn’t going to happen, and he felt a blush begin to creep up his neck under his scarf for even thinking about it.  Ivan had to admit, though, that for a man, Feliks looked really damn good in a dress.

               “ _Бог_ , I need a drink,” Ivan muttered, and Feliks suddenly perked up.

               “Do you want to go to that bar on Lowel Street?” the crossdresser asked.

               “Ugh, anywhere will do, as long as the vodka is good.”

               Feliks grinned. “It is.  Now take the wheel and drive, _Rusku_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I put all the not-English in italics, which only makes the Cyrillic alphabet more confusing. I can't italicize here, so some words won't look exactly the same, but I'm sure you'll be able to match the translations in this section with their uses in the story.)
> 
> мудак - Asshole  
> Что - What  
> Przepraszam - Sorry  
> [...]mam srałe zamiast mózgu? - [...] I have shit for brains?  
> Hет - No  
> Wy kurde myślicie że to śmieszne, dupki? - You think this is fucking funny, assholes?  
> [...] ja Wam powiem Wy jesteście - [...] I'll tell you what you are  
> Masz w głowie gówna krowie, i nie strugaj pawiana bo ci jebne w ryja! - You're a stupid dick [literally: you have a head filled with cow's shit] and if you fuck with me I'll smash your face!  
> Świnia, przestań pluć na mnie swoją spermą! Jesteś tania kurwa, i jak patrze na Ciebie to jestem za aborcja! - Pig, stop spitting on me with your cum. You're a cheap whore, and watching you makes me pro-abortion!  
> Пожалуйста - Please  
> Бог - God  
> Rusku - demeaning name for a Russian


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was sitting in Word unedited for a while because I was unmotivated, so sorry about that. Anyway, here's chapter two! Thanks again to my girlfriend for helping me with translating, because adding words and dialogue in another language makes writing twice as stressful but twice as fun! Like last chapter, translations are at the bottom, though some of them are pretty self explanatory.  
> Enjoy!

After a few ineffective attempts at small talk, Ivan and Feliks lapsed into silence, and the car ride to the bar was quiet.  The first had his hands on the wheel, sitting with rigid posture, while the latter lounged in the passenger seat.  Feliks stared out at the dark town lit by only the tiny, yellowed bulbs of streetlamps.  It was just after ten o’clock, and most of the windows in the neighborhood, houses and storefronts alike, were dark, their blinds drawn tight to block out the prying gaze of strangers. 

Model driver that he was, Ivan always kept his eyes on the road when he drove, especially at night.  For once, though, he was having trouble doing so.  No matter how hard he tried to focus on the pavement in front of him illuminated by his car’s headlights, his line of sight kept drifting to his right, to the young man slouching in the seat next to him.  As Feliks stared into space, seemingly lost in thought, Ivan studied him out of the corner of his eye.

Feliks’s skin looked soft and smooth, and so did his blond, just past chin-length hair.  His facial features were defined but gentle, giving him a girlish look that the makeup accentuated.  Ivan could see the meager light from outside reflected in his bright green eyes, beneath which was a small, pointed nose.  As his gaze traveled down the other’s face, Ivan couldn’t tear his eyes away from Feliks’s lips.  He was hit with a surge of unexpected desire to stop the car and kiss him.

“You do know where you’re going, right?”

Ivan jolted and nearly hit his head on the roof of the car interior.  Feliks’s tone was sharp, dragging him out of his daydream.  Ivan stared straight ahead, fighting the sudden urge to hide himself in his scarf, hands clutching the wheel as Feliks looked at him.

“Y-yes, of course,” Ivan mumbled, clearing his throat before continuing. “You said the bar was on Lowel Street.  I don’t go down there often.  It’s a new place, _Да_?”

“Relatively, I guess.  It’s been open for, like, eight months, maybe?  I just wanted to make sure you were paying attention.  You started drifting lanes.”

Ivan swallowed.  Had Feliks caught him staring?  Had he guessed as to what he was thinking of? “My apologies,” he said, still not looking at the other. “Now I turn left here?” Feliks made an affirmative noise, and the car turned onto Lowel.  The exterior looked nondescript and slightly run down, like most bars.  They parked in a small lot behind the building, and as Ivan followed his friend to the front door, he couldn’t help but stare at Feliks’s legs, the swing of his hips, and the way his dress moved as he walked.  He shook his head and shut his eyes.  He had to get his mind off things like this.

Inside, the place seemed to be a dingy hybrid between a bar and a nightclub.  It was one large, long room with a bar at one end.  There were tables and chairs spread out across the rest of the floor, but they surrounded an open space where a few people were dancing to some mediocre local indie band playing on a small stage at the other end.  Ivan and Feliks took seats at the bar, and Feliks motioned to the bartender, a man who looked to be in his fifties, who seemed to recognize him.

“ _Cześć, Feliks! Co tam nowego_?” The bartender called as he made his way over.  When he reached them, he grinned and rubbed his hands together.  He had a loud, booming voice, and spoke to Feliks like he knew him well.

“ _Dobry wieczór! Nic takiego, tylko chcę się napić._ ” Feliks replied with a grin.

“And who’s this, your new boyfriend?”

Feliks chuckled, eyeing Ivan, who felt a blush begin to crawl up his neck. “No, he’s just a new friend of mine.  This is Mr. Dawidowski.” He added.

“I’m Ivan,” he introduced himself, flashing an embarrassed smile and stretching out a hand to shake the bartender’s.  He was quickly left hanging as the man behind the counter leaned back and laughed heartily.

“A Russian, eh?  Feliks, I didn’t know you kept such company!” Ivan’s smile quickly became more forced.  Mr. Dawidowski didn’t seem to notice, and kept on chuckling as he continued. “Ah, no offense meant, kid.  I’m not the type of man who lets past politics bother him, not at all!”

“Of course,” Ivan replied politely, desperately wishing to end the conversation as soon as possible.  Feliks seemed to pick up his discomfort and quickly cut in.

“Can you get us two vodkas?” He asked, giving Mr. Dawidowski a look.  The bartender laughed and winked at the blond.

“Fine, I’ll leave you two alone.  Enjoy yourselves.” He stepped back and began to saunter away to prepare their drinks, but before he was out of range he yelled over his shoulder to Feliks. “ _On jest boski!_ ”

“ _Zamknij się, staruchu!_ ” Feliks called back, feigning annoyance but laughing at the bartender’s turned back.  Then he turned to Ivan. “Sorry about that.  He’s an old family friend, practically my father.  I hope he didn’t, like, offend you or something.”

“You didn’t tell me this was a Polish bar,” was all Ivan could think of to reply.

“It isn’t really.  The Dawidowski family just owns it.  Lots of people come here.” He pointed to a group of Latina women dancing together, and then nodded to a group of Japanese businessmen enjoying shots of sake at a table farther away. “And that’s, like, totally the coolest part about this place.  It prides itself on being diverse.  It’s gay-friendly, too, which is a miracle, considering that it’s run by Poles.”

Ivan nodded, expressing his interest in this tidbit as he looked around the room.  The awful band finally seemed to be finishing up, and its members were rewarded with a few claps as their last song ended and they began to pack up their instruments.  A few moments later, Ivan and Feliks’s drinks arrived, and the two toasted each other before downing their first round.  Ivan enjoyed the warm, familiar feeling that spread to his fingers and toes as he drank, as well as the way the drink seared its way down his throat.  Feliks raised his hand to signal for more, and Ivan posed a question he’d been meaning to ask as smoothly as he could.

“So…you’re…”

“Yeah,” Feliks nodded, already knowing what he wanted to know. “I mean, Mr. Dawidowski just made it pretty clear, if this outfit and the fact that I was pranked into the date with you weren’t evidence enough.”  When Ivan just looked at him in vague confusion, Feliks rolled his eyes. “Y’know, prank the gay kid, the crossdresser.  Stuff him in a locker.  Beat him up until he can barely walk, knock out a tooth, and when that gets tiring, go for the psychological bullying.  Leave threatening notes in his backpack.  Humiliate him in front of other people.  Set him up on a date, let him believe it, and then tell him the punch line is that the ‘mystery guy’ is straight.  Honestly, it’s like high school all over again with those immature _skurwysynowie_.”

Ivan took a swig of vodka and swallowed carefully.  He chafed at that label of his sexuality, the one that everyone put on him immediately.  He was uncomfortable being called straight, but he was reluctant to tell anyone that it didn’t fit him anymore, even someone like Feliks, who would accept and understand it.  He just kept silent, like he always did when the topic came up, and enjoyed his drink, as well as the next one when it was placed in front of him.  Ivan looked at Feliks, who was beginning to look red in the face. “Shouldn’t you watch how much you’re drinking?”

Feliks scoffed as his glass was refilled. “Why should I?  You’re the one who’s driving!” He laughed loudly and took another sip of his drink.  On the dance floor, more people were dancing than before, most likely because the band had been replaced by a DJ playing rhythmic, electronic songs with throbbing beats that made even Ivan’s foot tap a little.  Feliks’s eyes wandered from the DJ to him, and the blond’s small hand grabbed his.  Ivan tried to ignore the almost-electric feeling that jolted him at Feliks’s touch.

“Ivan, c’mon, let’s dance,” The Pole said, slurring a little, smiling up at him.

“I’m really not much of a dancer,” he replied nervously, worming his hand out of Feliks’s and looking away.

“Oh, but _Ivaaan_ ,” Feliks crooned, leaning in so that their faces were almost touching. “It’ll totally be a ton of fun!”  Ivan swallowed, again feeling the desire to lean in and kiss those soft, pink lips.  His violet eyes stared into Feliks’s green ones, and for a moment he almost said yes.

“No…I just—no.  I already told you, I can’t dance and I’m not about to get up there and try!” He said firmly.  The smaller man sighed and slouched over onto the counter theatrically.

“Oh, _fine_.  But who am I supposed to dance with, then?  I’ll just sit here all alone, rotting away, with no one to keep me entertained!” His exaggerated pleas caught the attention of some people standing nearby, and it wasn’t long before a young man with dark hair who had been playing in the band earlier came over and asked Feliks if he wanted to dance.  At the offer, the blond’s face lit up, and he quickly followed him out to the floor, close to the stage.  The deep, pounding bass resounded in Ivan’s ears as he took another sip of vodka.

Drinking alone wasn’t anything new to him, but having a friend to talk to over drinks had been a pleasant change, especially when said friend showed off his legs in pretty dresses and managed to look so damn kissable.

Ivan sighed.  Feliks was cute, almost unbearably so, and now he was off dancing with some stranger.  With a pang of regret, he wished he had said yes earlier.  He stared out at the crowd of dancers, telling himself he wasn’t looking for Feliks, and felt his heart drop when he caught a glimpse of him dancing very closely with the other man, looking sweaty and excited, and _God_ , was Ivan jealous.  He felt his envy rise in him like bile as he watched every sway of Feliks’s hips and turn of his head.  He could dance very well.  Ivan watched him move fluidly amid the crowd, and he downed a shot between each song.

Finally, he could take it no longer.  He had spent half an hour sitting alone at the bar, and he was sick of it.  He paid for both of their drinks, stomped over from the bar to the dance floor, and grabbed the blond by the arm. “Feliks, I think I’ve had enough.  It’s time to go home.”

“Ivan!  You finally decided to get off your lazy ass and dance, huh?  Come join me!” Feliks seemed not to have heard him, but pulled him closer, looking up at him and swaying just a little.

“No, I’m not dancing.  We’re leaving.  _Давай_ _!_ ”

“Come on, Ivan, have a little fun!” Feliks tried to convince him, stepping uncomfortably (or was it very comfortably) close to Ivan and running a hand down his arm.  Ivan inhaled sharply at the touch, but quickly regained his poise, grabbed his drunken friend by the arm, and dragged him outside.

Once they were out of the suffocating warmth of the bar, Feliks came back to his senses, if ‘senses’ could be defined as the emotions of an angry, pouting drunk. “You’re such a buzzkill, you know that?  Is that what your idea of fun is, just going and ruining other people’s nights?”

“I could have left by myself, you know,” Ivan replied. “But you don’t have a car with you, and even if you did, you’re in no fit state to drive it.”

Feliks snorted. “I could, like, totally drive a car right now if I, like, wanted to or something.” Ivan didn’t bother pointing out that he couldn’t speak without slurring or walk in a straight line across the parking lot.

When they reached the car, they climbed in, Feliks sprawling himself across the passenger side again.  Ivan stared down at the face partially obscured by fine blond locks for a few seconds before shaking his head, turning the key in the ignition, and backing out of the lot.

The drive home was less quiet than the one there, only because Ivan was trying ceaselessly to get understandable directions from a slurring and sleepy Feliks.

“You said I turn right up here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

“ _Nie, nie!_   You were supposed to make a left!”

“You told me to go right!”

“I meant left.”

Finally, after several wrong turns, roundabouts, and backtracks, they arrived at Feliks’s destination: a dingy apartment building in a neighborhood Ivan rarely drove through. 

“About damn time,” Feliks mumbled as the car pulled up to the curb.

“You’re welcome for the ride,” Ivan grumbled back.  "And for the drinks," he added under his breath.

“Right, yes, of course!  How could I forget that,” Feliks grinned. “So generous of you.  How about a kiss for your troubles?” Ivan’s eyes widened as the other leaned in close, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath.  Feliks stopped just before their lips met and laughed. “Just kidding.  What kind of _dziewka_ do you think I am?”

“Judging by the way you were dancing, an easy one,” was Ivan’s cutting reply.  Feliks laughed again, swinging himself back into the passenger seat.

“So you were watching, eh?  What is it?  Are you jealous, _Rusku_?”

“Of course I’m not!  I just—look, it doesn’t matter.  Can you get yourself safely inside?  Do you have your keys?”

Feliks opened the car door, nodding and patting his pocket. “Yes, yes, I have my keys. Stop worrying, Ivan.  I’m not your responsibility.”

“I just want to make sure you’re safe.  Here, take my number in case you need anything.” He grabbed a pen from the glove compartment and scrawled his phone number on Feliks’s hand.

“God, I didn’t know you were _that_ desperate,” Feliks said, and then giggled.

Ivan took a deep breath. “Just…call me or something.  So I know you haven’t died of alcohol poisoning.  And, uh,” He paused, trying to some way to casually phrase what he wanted to say next. “I’d like to see you again sometime.  If you want, I mean.  We could do something like this again, but without the prank from Alfred and Gilbert.”

Feliks stared at him with a dazed, surprised grin on his face. “So, like, a date.”

Ivan looked away from his piercing green eyes. “Y-yes, you could call it a date.  I mean, if you want to.” He trailed off into silence as Feliks climbed out of the car.  The smaller man called out to him as he walked backwards and unsteadily towards the front doors of the building.

“I’ll let you know,” he yelled with a laugh. “And Ivan,” He added as the Russian changed the car gear from park to drive. “Thanks for the ride.” 

With that, he stumbled inside, and Ivan couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle at his intoxicated friend as he stepped on the gas pedal and began the drive back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Да - yes  
> Cześć, Feliks! Co tam nowego? - Hi, Feliks! What's new?  
> Dobry wieczór! Nic takiego, tylko chcę się napić. - Good evening! Nothing really, I just want a drink.  
> On jest boski! - He's really good looking!  
> Zamknij się, staruchu! - Shut up, old man!  
> skurwysynowie - bastards  
> Давай! - Let's go!  
> nie - no  
> dziewka - slut


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Just a warning, I'll be away at camp and then on vacation over the next couple weeks, so it may take me a while to update this. I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> About the names I used here: although I know the fandom generally uses Ekatherina in reference to Ukraine, Himaruya suggested the name Irunya Cherenko, so I took that as the more canonical choice. However, Irunya is an endearing form of Iryna, so for this fic, Ukraine's official name is Iryna, though characters she is close with sometimes address her as Irunya.  
> Similarly, Himaruya suggested multiple names for Taiwan, and since I know a lot less about Taiwanese names, I just chose the one I thought sounded nicest. She is the Xiao Mei referred to here. I hope that clears everything up!  
> Thank you to my friend James for helping me with the Russian. Translations are at the end of the chapter, though there aren't many this time!

The next morning, Ivan woke up earlier than expected, switching off his alarm clock long before it was due to sound.  He grabbed his phone, turned it on, and checked his inbox for any texts or missed calls from Feliks.  There was nothing.  Though he knew his friend was probably just sleeping off a hangover, he couldn’t help but worry that something more serious was wrong.  Ivan put the device back on his side table and sighed, closing his eyes.  _Успокоивайсь_ , he told himself, rubbing his eyes and stretching out across his bed.  _Он в безупастности.  Всё будет хорошо пожалуйсто._

Still trying to push his worries over Feliks’s safety to the back of his mind, he rolled out of bed and opened the shades, squinting at the sudden bright morning sunlight that streamed in through his window.  Through the glass, he looked out over his large front lawn, mowed to a perfect uniformity.  Soon enough, he knew, the leaves of the trees that lined his street would lose their verdancy and transform into oranges and yellows before shriveling to brown and falling from the branches.  It was only the first week of September, and still warm enough to go outside without a jacket.  Ivan stretched, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing the ceiling of his bedroom.  He rolled his shoulders and scratched his head, running fingers through his messy bedhead before he opened the dresser drawer and began to get ready for the day.  Once dressed, he checked his phone once again.  Still nothing.

Downstairs, he poured some cereal and milk into a bowl and sat down, but could hardly take a bite before Natalya appeared in the doorway, arms crossed and glaring.  Ivan swallowed, preparing for the worst.

“So.  Where were you?” Natalya asked curtly, stepping into the kitchen and tapping her foot on the tile floor.

“Out,” he replied, waving his hand noncommittally and shrugging.

“Out?  _Out!?_   Is that all you have to say for yourself, shithead?” Her voice jumped up an octave and her hands clenched into fists.  Ivan looked down and guiltily stirred his cereal.  He’d do anything to make her stop looking at him like that.

“I was just out at the bar with some friends,” he added, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal, Nat, you don’t have to yell–”

He was quickly interrupted by a stream of loud curses and scolds that poured from Natalya’s mouth.  He winced at the harshness of her words, creatively arranged to paint a verbal picture explaining to him how irresponsible and destructive his decisions were, how alcohol was going to be the end of him, and how his friends were untrustworthy and suspicious.  Ivan didn’t take her warning against alcohol to heart, as he had seen her put sailors to shame in bars before.  But considering what had happened with Alfred the night before, she was half right.  His friends were untrustworthy, and sometimes downright cruel to him.  He had gotten that feeling from Alfred before, but felt nothing of the sort when he thought back to how Feliks had treated him.  Maybe it was just because they had both been victims of the prank, but he hadn’t sensed any cruel intentions or contempt in Feliks’s actions at the bar.

By the time Natalya finished her tirade, Ivan was long since lost in thoughts of Feliks, his green eyes, and his feather-soft hair.

“Ivan, are you even listening to me?” Natalya asked sharply, pulling his head out of the clouds.

“Er, yes, of course!” He replied, nodding with as much sincerity as he could muster. 

Before he could scramble to think of something to say so she would believe him, Iryna entered behind Natalya, yawning and rubbing her eyes.  She had clearly just rolled out of bed, and was wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and panties.  Her short hair stuck out at all angles, and the outline of her nipples poked through the thin fabric of her shirt.

“What’s with all the yelling so early in the morning?” Iryna mumbled, blinking her bright teal eyes and putting a hand on her little sister’s head. “Natalya, you aren’t torturing Ivan for having a little fun, are you?”

Natalya pouted and looked away, crossing her arms in front of her again. “I’m only looking out for his well-being.  If he didn’t have to go out to bars and get drunk with his suspicious friends, I wouldn’t have to yell at him!”

“I wasn’t even drunk!  I was the designated driver!” Ivan said in exasperation, dropping the spoon into his bowl of half-eaten cereal with a clatter.

“Okay, both of you can calm down,” Iryna said, patting Natalya’s head with a soft, sleepy smile. “It’s just after ten on a Sunday morning and you’re already arguing like little kids.”

Natalya frowned and stepped away from her older sister’s touch, turning around to glare at her. “Don’t defend him!  It’s bad enough that I have to worry about you going out to God knows where without telling me.  The least either of you could do is let me know where you are!” After she released her angry words, her glare melted into a look of mild discomfort as she stared at her sister.

“Iryna…shouldn’t you go put a bra on?”

“Later,” her older sister chuckled before crushing her younger sister into a bear hug, muffling the shorter girl’s protests in her large bosom.  After a minute, Natalya managed to worm her way out of Iryna’s embrace and run haughtily from the room.

Iryna chuckled as she watched her sister go.  She put some bread into the toaster and took a seat across the small kitchen table from Ivan.  After some silence, she spoke to him, though her gaze stayed on her folded hands. “I do hope you weren’t lying about not drinking much last night.  She has your best interests at heart, no matter how much she seems to twist them up.”

“I know, I know,” Ivan replied through a mouth full of cereal. “How’s Xiao Mei?”

The abrupt subject change worked perfectly, and Iryna smiled widely, resting her chin on one of her palms. “She’s great.  She’s amazing.  She’s so fashionable and _with it_ , you know?  She always dresses well, and she has this super cool flower tattoo on her upper thigh and sometimes when we’re–”

“I get it,” Ivan cut her off, shaking his head in amusement as he held up a hand. “When I asked how she was, I didn’t really need to hear about your sex life.  You can keep that to yourself, _Да?_ ”

Iryna blushed and giggled nervously. “Right.  Sorry, I got kind of off topic.” She paused, tilting her head slightly downwards to catch his eye. “And what about you?  Have you met anyone special you didn’t want to mention in front of Nat?”

Ivan was silent for a while, chewing and swallowing his cereal slowly, weighing in his mind whether or not to tell her.  He trusted her, yes, and she certainly wouldn’t make fun of him for being interested in another man, but on the other hand, she was infamous for letting secrets slip accidentally, and there was always the chance Natalya could hear them.

“Well,” Ivan began, “There was–”

The toast popped out of the toaster with a ding, and Iryna nearly fell out of her chair with surprise. “I’m still listening!” She cried as she dashed up to retrieve it, but Ivan knew that her mind would already be wandering.  He shook his head.

“No, it’s fine.  I think I’m done with breakfast.” He stood up, put his bowl and spoon in the sink, and then stepped closer to his sister, resting his head on her shoulder as she buttered her toast. “Irunya,” he began in his sweetest, most innocent voice, “could you wash the dishes for me?”

Iryna sighed. “Fine, but just this once.  I’m not your maid.” Ivan nodded and squeezed her around the middle in a grateful hug like he did when he was younger before walking back to his room

Once inside, he closed the door and checked his phone again.  He had no new messages.  Ivan rubbed his eyes, brows knitting into a worried expression.  Feliks had seemed all right when he had left him the night before, but a lot of bad things could happen to sleeping drunks.  Ivan set his phone to vibrate so he would be able to feel it if it rang, pocketed it, and walked back out to the living room, where he sat in his armchair and picked up the newspaper.  He resolved that if Feliks hadn’t contacted him by the time he finished the paper, he would find a way to contact him himself.

A few minutes before eleven, Natalya left for church without saying goodbye to her siblings, and Ivan paused his reading as he listened to the sound of her car leave the driveway.  Then he continued on with his reading, ignoring the distant clattering of pots and pans and Iryna’s humming while she worked in the kitchen.

As Ivan read the last paragraph of the last article on the last page, he put the newspaper down and grabbed his phone from his pocket.  It was nearly one in the afternoon, and Feliks still hadn’t called or texted.  Ivan stood up from his armchair and walked to the kitchen.  Iryna was at the counter, kneading a large lump of dough.  Her hands were covered in flour and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows.  As she noticed him in the doorway she turned to face him, and he noticed that her nose was dusted with flour as well.  Ivan smiled.  Even though she was a master of baking, his sister never failed to make a mess of herself.

“Have you seen the phone book?” He asked, raising his head to look on top of the fridge, where they usually kept it.

“Um, I think it’s in the study.  Natalya was making calls the other day and never bothered to put it back.  What do you need it for?”

Ivan shrugged. “ _Ничего_.  I just want to find something.” He wandered out without another word.

The study was shared by all three siblings, though Natalya spent little time there.  Tall, mahogany bookcases lined the walls, their shelves filled with leather-bound copies of classic literature, as well as rows of science fiction novels that Natalya collected and devoured.  At one end of the room was a large window that overlooked the back garden with a cushioned ledge beneath it, where Natalya, Ivan, and sometimes even Iryna could be found with his or her nose in a book.  In front of the window, facing the door through which Ivan had entered, was a large, dark cherry oak desk and leather chair.  On top of the desk was the family computer (which was programmed with Iryna’s art software and Natalya’s old computer games,) one of the house phones, Ivan’s laptop, and the open phone book.

Ivan took a seat at the desk and flipped through the book, looking for the number for Mr. Dawidowski’s bar.  He didn’t have Feliks’s number, but a family friend probably would.  When he found the entry for the bar, he picked up the phone and held it to his ear, listening to it ring with baited breath.

After several rings, someone picked up, and Ivan could make out the sounds of glasses clinking and water running. “Four Mugs Bar, this is Thomas speaking.”

“Hi.  I’m calling for Mr. Dawidowski.  Can I speak to him now?” He fiddled with the cord to the phone as he awaited an answer.

“Uh, yeah, sure.  Hold on just a second.”

Ivan heard he muffled sounds of men talking for a minute before someone else spoke into the phone.

“Hello?”

Ivan sat up straighter. “Hi, Mr. Dawidowski, this is Ivan, Feliks’s friend from last night.  He was pretty intoxicated when we left, so I drove him home.  Then I gave him my number and told him to contact me to let me know he was all right.  I haven’t heard anything from him, and I just wanted to make sure he was okay.  Do you have any information, or a number for me to reach him?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Mr. Dawidowski fondly. “I dropped by Feliks’s house this morning on my way here to make sure he was fine.  I generally do that after I know he’s been drinking, you know.  I like to make sure he’s all right.  That’s why I give him a discount, yes?  Not only for family ties, but also because if he can get it cheaper here he’ll come here, so I can keep an eye on him while he drinks.  Alcohol is dangerous, of course, and especially to someone underage!”

Ivan blinked, completely caught off guard by several things.  Firstly, that someone underage had the permission of a guardian to get completely smashed at a bar.  And secondly, Feliks hadn’t mentioned any such discount.  Ivan had paid full price for both their drinks.

Shaking himself out of his annoyed silence, Ivan spoke. “Thank you very much, Mr. Dawidowski.  I’m glad to hear Feliks is safe.  But I was just wondering if there was a number—”

“It’s good he has another pair of eyes looking after him when he goes out,” The older man continued. “It’s very, very kind of you.”

“Right.  Thank you,” Ivan said, gritting his teeth and clutching at the phone cord, “But I just want to know if I can get Feliks’s—”

A sudden muffled crash sounded on the other end, followed by a long line of what Ivan assumed were Polish swears. “I’m sorry, Ivan, but this is not a good time for talking.  I have to go.  Come by the bar sometime and we can speak then.  Goodbye!” The phone clicked and the call ended. 

Ivan took the phone from his face, stared at it for a second, and then put it back on the receiver.  He took a deep breath to smell the scent of old books and leather that had always relaxed him, and opened his laptop to check his work email and pay some bills. 

Though he hadn’t gotten his number, he knew Feliks was safely recovering from a hangover on the other side of town, and that was enough for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Успокоивайсь - Calm down  
> Он в безупастности. Всё будет хорошо пожалуйсто. - He's safe. Everything will be fine.  
> Да - Yes  
> Ничего - Nothing


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I was sitting on a little over two thousand words for weeks, stuck in a rut of writer's block and not sure how I wanted to continue the chapter from my stopping point. But luckily, last night some sort of muse grabbed me and wrung out another thousand plus words from me. So I guess I can try to defend myself by saying that it took longer to write because it's a long chapter, but really I'm just lazy.  
> There's only one word that needs translating this time around, but even so, it'll be at the bottom of the chapter.  
> Enjoy!

As weeks went by with the steady and relentless tread of a soldier, the leaves on the trees turned brilliantly gold, and the most eager ones of the bunch began to sever themselves and twirl downwards in the autumn wind to the ground, where even the grass, once so lush and green, had taken on a yellowed tinge.  Feliks still hadn’t called Ivan.

Ivan had been in no rush to contact Feliks once he knew he was safe, but even so, he had wanted to try to arrange some outing, whether it be dinner, a movie, or simply a stroll in the park.  But without any way to get in touch with him, Ivan’s hopes diminished with every passing day.  He had even tried visiting the Four Mugs Bar a few times on the off chance Feliks would be there, but his attempts were all in vain.  No matter how long he sat at the bar or stared into the dancing crowd, he never saw hide or hair of the Pole.  He started to give up hope he’d ever get to see him again.

On a dreary Monday morning in late September, Ivan was scheduled to have an appointment with the local optometrist.  The only slot available on the day he could take off from work was the first one, at eight in the morning.  He would have had no problem making it on time himself, but because he couldn’t drive on the way back with his eyes dilated, he had to rely on one of his sisters to escort him.

He had asked Natalya first, but she refused, claiming to be busy, though she didn’t even bother to look up from her laptop when he asked.  Iryna, on the other hand, had accepted his offer with a surprising amount of enthusiasm for someone who slept until ten on most mornings.  She promised to be up and ready to go by quarter to eight, accounting for the five to ten minutes of driving time to get there.

When the morning came, Ivan’s alarm woke him at seven.  He yawned and lay in bed for a few minutes longer than he usually would, and then he climbed out and walked to the shower.  Once he had washed himself, he brushed his teeth, quickly shaved, and put on fresh clothes.  He grabbed his phone, scarf, and coat, and slipped on his shoes by the front door.  His phone claimed it was seven forty two, and he leaned against the wall, waiting for his older sister.

Three minutes passed, and Ivan began to feel a sinking suspicion that Iryna wasn’t going to be there any time soon.  He walked to her room, knocked on the door, and opened it when there was no reply.  He was greeted with the sight of Iryna fast asleep, her mouth wide open and drooling.

“IRYNA!” Ivan yelled, shaking his sister’s arm.  She jolted awake, scrambling up and squinting at him.

“Wha…what is it…” she mumbled as she rubbed her eyes.

“I have an appointment!  You know, the one that you promised to drive me to?”

Iryna’s eyes widened, and she nearly fell out of bed on her way to the door. “I’m sorry, oh my goodness, Ivan, I’m so sorry!  I completely forgot about it and didn’t set my alarm and—just let me wash my face and brush my hair.  It’ll just take me a second and then we can go.” She ran down the hall to the bathroom that she and Natalya shared.  Ivan traipsed back out to the front hall, muttering to himself about no good scatterbrained sisters.  He checked his watch.  Seven fifty one.  Seven fifty two.

Iryna finally appeared, hair sticking up in places despite its alleged brushing.  She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her bag, and followed Ivan out to the car.

As soon as she climbed into the driver’s seat, she rifled through her bag for a minute, looking for her keys. “I could swear they were in here…I know I put them in the inside pocket,” she said, and then sprang up and ran back into the house a moment later to see if she had left them inside.  Ivan just put a hand on his face.  He should have known better than to let her bring him to his appointment.  He was going to be late.

Iryna finally came back out, keys in hand, and started the car.   She pulled out of the driveway at seven fifty six.  Ivan drummed his fingers on his knee as they started down the road, wishing she would drive faster.  As luck would have it, they hit every red light on the way, and it wasn’t until five after seven that she pulled into the parking lot across the street from the optometrist’s office.  Before she had even turned off the engine, Ivan undid his seatbelt and jumped out of the car, racing across the parking lot.

Desperate to get to his appointment as close to on-time as he could, Ivan made a reckless move and ignored the crosswalk several feet away from him, running into the road without looking around the sharp turn on his left for oncoming traffic.

He never even saw it coming.

He had taken no more than three large strides across the street before a car came whizzing around the turn.  The driver slammed the horn and the brakes and tried to swerve out of the way, but there wasn’t enough time to stop the vehicle from hitting Ivan hard in the side, throwing him back onto the ground.  His head hit the pavement and he felt his vision flicker and blur as he lay stunned on the asphalt.  He blinked several times and tried to raise his arm, but pain overwhelmed him and his arm quickly fell to his side again.  The last thing he heard before he blacked out entirely was Iryna yelling and crying and another voice that sounded a lot like Feliks’s.

When Ivan woke up next, he felt out of place and confused.  He was lying in a bed that did not feel like his, and as he stared at the cold, unfamiliar ceiling above him, he knew it was not his either.  His muscles felt stiff, and he had no idea how long he had been sleeping.  He tried to shift so he could see the rest of the room, but he felt a dull pain in his side as he tried to sit up and winced, letting out a sharp breath.

“Do you need some help?” A familiar voice asked, and Ivan looked up, startled.

“Feliks?” He asked, almost in disbelief at the sight of the person he had least expected to see. “What are you doing here?”

He wasn’t crossdressing today, but was dressed simply: blue jeans, a navy polo shirt, and a green pullover sweater.  His hair looked as feathery and soft as it did the last time they had met, and Ivan tried to keep from staring at his entirely too-cute face.

The blond shrugged, looking rather guilty. “I kind of, uh, hit you with my car.”

Ivan stared at him while he tried to form an appropriate response. “You hit me.  With a car,” was all he could come up with.

“It was an accident!” Feliks cried, his voice escalating. “I wasn’t _trying_ to hit you, but you ran into the road like a chicken with its head cut off, and I didn’t see you until I couldn’t stop!”

“Why were you even there?”

“I’m a student, in case you hadn’t noticed!  Just because you gave me a ride that night doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive.  I was _trying_ to get to my morning class.  I had just gotten Starbucks, for God’s sake, and then a complete _wariat_ runs out into the middle of the street!  Were you trying to get yourself killed?  Or are you just too stupid to recognize danger when it punches you in the face?”

Everything suddenly came back to Ivan all at once, and he sat up a little straighter. “Right, you’re—you’re right.  So I’m in the hospital?  What time is it?  Is Iryna all right?”

Seeing that Ivan was capable of sitting up on his own now, Feliks pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. “Yeah, you are.  We called the ambulance after you hit the ground and your sister couldn’t get you to wake up.  It was pretty scary.  She was, like, sobbing and screaming and shaking you, and there was blood on the pavement and shit.” Feliks paused, shaking his head as he stared off at nothing for a moment. “They patched you up, though, so it’s nothing serious.  You just have a hell of a lot of bruises and a slightly broken rib.”

Ivan lifted his hand and felt the bandages wrapped tightly around his head, holding a piece of gauze to his scalp.  Then he looked down and lifted the edge of his shirt, staring at the bandages there too.  He poked his side and winced.  “Only slightly.  What a relief.”

Feliks continued.  “It’s around two in the afternoon now, and Iryna just went out to use the bathroom.  She’ll totally be pissed when she realizes you woke up without her.  We’ve been sitting here all day waiting for you to wake up.”

Ivan smiled.  Even if she was chronically late, it made him happy to be reminded how much she cared about him. “And what about Natalya?” He asked.

“Your other sister?  She stopped by a while ago too, but she, uh, wasn’t here for long.” Feliks rubbed his jaw as he spoke, refusing to look at him, and Ivan’s stomach dropped.

“ _Христос_ , she tried to hurt you, didn’t she?  I’m so sorry.  She needs to learn how to control herself.”

Feliks waved a hand. “It’s all right, I know it isn’t your fault.  She packs quite a punch though, eh?  I can only imagine how intense the sibling arguments are.”  Ivan replied with a small, nervous laugh, embarrassed and afraid to admit to anyone that he was actually intimidated by his younger sister, and often bent to her will.

Silence fell over the two again, and Ivan folded his hands in his lap, trying to keep himself from looking like a complete dumbstruck fool. “Well, uh,” he began, racking his brain to find a way to say what he wanted, “I mean, I suppose it’s a good thing that it was you who hit me.”

He looked up at Feliks, who was staring at him skeptically. “And why the hell is that?”

Ivan swallowed. “Well, because I know you, so it’s less uncomfortable than having a complete stranger watching me sleep in my hospital room.  And…it’s also because I was hoping to get in touch with you ever since we hung out a few weeks ago.”

Feliks raised an eyebrow. “How did you expect to do that?  I don’t have your number.”

Ivan felt his stomach drop as he stared back at him. “I gave it to you that night.  I wrote it on your hand right before you got out of my car so that you could call if you needed help, since you were drunk beyond belief.”

Feliks’s mouth dropped open. “That was _your_ number?  _Hooooly shit_.” He drew out the profanity, almost reverently rolling the rude words across his tongue as he stared at the wall. “I totally didn’t remember that when I woke up.  Hell, I didn’t remember most of the end of last night when I woke up.  I just assumed it was the number of the guy I danced with, and I wasn’t really interested in hooking up with him.” His green eyes flicked back to Ivan, and he looked truly apologetic. “I’m really sorry about that.  I wasn’t, like, purposely ignoring you or anything.  And, uh,” Feliks shifted in his chair, staring at Ivan with an expression of deep thought, “It wasn’t out of a lack of interest, either.”

Ivan could feel his heart pounding as he stared at the blond.  Almost without realizing, he felt himself leaning forward slightly, and Feliks did the same.  When their lips were just an inch away, the handle on the door turned suddenly, and both sprang apart right before Iryna opened the door.

“Ivan!  You’re awake!” She cried, rushing to his bedside, pushing Feliks to the side (and nearly knocking him out of his chair in the process), and hugging her injured little brother close to her chest. “Oh, Ivan, I was so, so worried…” She kissed the top of his head and squeezed him until he thought he might suffocate.  Just before he could make a muffled complaint, she let him go and stepped away, frowning at him. “How could you be so careless!  You could have been killed!”

“I…I’m sorry, Irunya,” Ivan mumbled.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to yourself.  You always complain that I treat you like a child, but how can I not when you act so foolishly?  You never learn.  I can’t even leave you alone for ten seconds in a parking lot before you manage to get nearly run over!” She crossed her arms over her chest.  Ivan could tell she was hurt.

He stared at his hands.  In the corner of his eye, he could see Feliks shifting uncomfortably in his seat, pretending not to listen to the family drama.  _At least Natalya isn’t here for this_ , Ivan thought, with a tinge of relief.  Arguments with her always got out of hand, especially when they were about his well-being. 

Iryna sat down, and after a long, tense silence, Feliks clapped his hands together and broke the grim mood with his cheerful voice. “So, is anyone in the mood for some TV?” A minute later the small television in the room was playing reruns of some old soap operas, and Iryna was watching intently from her chair.  She always denied it when asked, but Ivan knew how much she loved watching the terrible dramas.  Feliks paid a little attention to the show, but seemed more interested with fiddling with his phone.

As he watched Feliks from his hospital bed, Ivan couldn’t help but wonder what kind of things he liked.  If the way he had acted and the things he had said when Iryna was out of the room were any indication, Ivan was almost certain that the constant, nagging desire he had to kiss Feliks was not one-sided.

For the first time since high school, Ivan mourned his lack of dating experience.  He had no idea what one should do in a situation like this.  He was hesitant to take Feliks out to a restaurant after what had happened on their fake date.  He thought about buying flowers, but then again, Ivan was the one who had just been hit by a car, so shouldn’t he be receiving flowers, not buying them? 

Iryna interrupted his musings when her phone buzzed.  She glanced at the incoming text, and then stood up, rubbing her palms against the front of her pants in a nervous habit. “That was Xiao Mei.  She’s coming to pick me up and take me to the movies.  Is it all right if I leave you now?” Ivan could see the conflict on her face.  She was still worried about him, but he knew she was desperate to get out of the tiny room and have a nice evening with her girlfriend.  And despite usually being a careless and worrisome little brother, Ivan was far from selfish, and he was never one to keep his sister from her happiness.

“Of course, Irunya,” he smiled, lifting his chin up at her as she stood next to his bed. “You don’t have to fret over me.  Have a nice date.  I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Feliks cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair. “When I went out for water a while ago I ran into one of the nurses.  She said they’re keeping you overnight to make sure there’s no concussion, just in case.  But you’ll be out the door tomorrow morning, no doubt.”

Iryna nodded, and Ivan was surprised to see her taking the words of a virtual stranger into account.  It wasn’t like his sister was the type to refuse others’ opinions and advice, but this was the man who had hit her little brother with a car mere hours ago.  Ivan couldn’t help but wonder how the two of them had gotten along while he was asleep – what kind of information they exchanged, if and how they knew each other before this morning.  He supposed it was always possible they had met before at some sort of pride festival or similar event, but it seemed unlikely.

“All right, so I’ll be going, then,” Iryna said, kissing Ivan’s forehead and hugging him tightly before straightening up and grabbing her bag. “I’ll call before I go to bed tonight, and you let me know when they’re letting you out tomorrow.  I’ll come get you.”  She turned to leave, but stopped a split second later, turning around again to face her brother.  He seemed much smaller against the backdrop of the hospital bed, and it brought a sad smile to her eyes. “And Ivan?  Stay safe for me, okay?”

Ivan nodded and waved goodbye as she left the room, and Feliks closed the door behind her. “So,” the blond asked after he had returned to his chair, sitting much more relaxed now that they were alone, one leg bent and resting on his other. “Is your little sister straight, or is your house just a den for queerfolk?” Feliks gave him a teasing smile.  Ivan looked away from his playful gaze, and for once he was embarrassed by his older sister’s painfully obvious interest in women.

“Hey, don’t think I’m making fun of you guys or anything,” Feliks laughed when he noted Ivan’s uncomfortable expression. “I mean, did you expect the flamboyant homosexual in front of you to be appalled?”

“Well, no…not really,” Ivan admitted, a little disappointed in himself for being embarrassed in the first place. “And Natalya’s straight as far as I know.  But yeah.  Iryna just likes girls, and, well, I’m…bisexual.” The word rolled off his tongue when he said it, and once he got past his own trepidation, it felt _good_ to say it. “Though, er, neither of my sisters knows.  Nor does anyone else, for that matter.  I’ve been pretty quiet about it.  Closeted, I guess.  To be honest, you’re the first person I’ve told.”

Ivan stared at Feliks when he finished his drawn out confession, and he could feel how wide and wild his violet eyes were.  Coupled with the bruises and bandages, he was sure he looked like a madman, and he was surprised he hadn’t scared Feliks off yet.  But instead of looking frightened or concerned, Feliks just looked slightly amused.

“So why tell me?” He asked, studying Ivan with curiosity that may just have been tinged with desire. “We’re friends, yes, but not very close ones, and I’m sure there are people closer to you whom you could have told, like Iryna.  So why come out to me, of all people?”

Ivan blinked. “Well, I…I don’t know.  You just seemed…trustworthy.  You give off a feeling that I could tell you something personal like that and trust you not to use it to hurt me, or to make a big fuss the way she might.” He ended his sentence before he accidentally let slip that he wanted Feliks to know that he most certainly swung in his direction.  But the way Feliks was chuckling made Ivan think that part didn’t need to be said.

“Well, I’ll give you my number, then,” Feliks said, reaching for Ivan’s phone off the room’s small table.  Ivan had scarcely had a chance to fully feel his heart leap before the blond stopped midway through typing in his number to grin at him. “For educational purposes, of course.  A newbie to the queer community needs someone more experienced to show them the ropes, explain rules and signals and whatnot. And if you ever need help with the _finer_ points of homosexuality, I’ll be more than happy to help.”

Feliks winked and pressed enter, saving his contact information as Ivan’s heart thumped and his mind reeled.  Was that an innuendo?  Was he being hit on?  Was this really happening or was he still conked out on anesthetic?

“Th-thanks,” Ivan stuttered, ascertaining that this was, indeed, really happening.  And now he had Feliks’s number.  Ivan couldn’t help but think that he was glad to have been hit by a car that morning.

“You’re welcome,” Feliks replied. “And hey, I guess it’s a good thing you trust me, because otherwise our situation would be about to get a lot less friendly.”

“And why is that?” Ivan asked, staring quizzically at the blond.

“Because hospital care is expensive,” Feliks said with a pained smile. “And I don’t have car insurance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Христос-Christ


End file.
